SHOWING THE WAY TO GOD
By Michael McGirr, Mission Director of Caritas Australia
Before I got to know Fr Ferruccio Romanin SJ, I was a little frightened of him. More than a little. He had a formidable reputation as the man who stopped in the middle of the Sydney Harbour Bridge to challenge a wayward driver.
Ferruccio was the man who told a shop assistant at Dimmeys, down the hill from the Richmond church, that the suit he was trying to sell did not fit. The assistant begged to differ, saying – perhaps inexplicably – that the coat would actually become roomier with use. Ferruccio was not impressed.
“I told you it did not fit. Now I show you.”
With that, Ferruccio hunched his broad shoulders, braced his arms in front of his chest, and the coat tore right down the back.
“See what I mean?” he said.
Later in life, when he was working in Rome, Ferruccio ran into Bob Carr, who had not long stood down as Premier of NSW. Carr was visiting the church Ferruccio looked after, having a break, trying to get away from it all.
“What did you talk about?” I asked Ferruccio.
“I gave him a piece of my mind.”
Ferruccio shared his mind generously.
Yet when I went to live at St Ignatius at Richmond as a young priest who knew everything, I was wrongfooted by both his kindness and his wisdom. He cared for his complex Jesuit community, making allowances for difficult people. Jesuits doing it tough often called on him. He made them coffee and listened. He always gave practical advice.
Early in my first year at St Ignatius, I decided to sit in on a Mass to get the flavour of how the parish ran and what sort of thing to say in a homily. It was Lent and Ferrucio was preaching. He usually began with a dramatic pause.
“My father was a builder,” he began.
This was true. The Romanins came from Friuli and belonged to the generation that created Melbourne’s Lygon Street. They lived just behind where Jimmy Watson’s has stood for as long as anyone remembers. He took me there once and shared his memories as if it was yesterday. It was the place where Melbourne met one of its great loves, namely coffee, a passion Ferruccio shared. He once drove from Adelaide to Sydney, across the Hay Plain, drinking nothing but strong coffee. No wonder he had a headache when he arrived.
“And my father before me was a builder.”
This was true too.
“Me, I am a priest.”
Pause.
“But I like to build.”
There was a slight titter because there no arguing with this. Ferrucio loved that most lovable church and organised the upkeep of the roof and interior; he completely redid the surrounds. He created a faux well outside the presbytery to celebrate the four gospels. It had no practical purpose but was solid enough to survive anything. He organised the new altar, the new lectern, the stained-glass window featuring St Mary of the Cross Mackillop who lived in three separate places in the Richmond parish. His practical skills tolerated no obstacle. When a visitor to the parish lost her engagement ring in the toilet, he pulled the plumbing apart until he found it. His priesthood often wore a boilermaker’s suit.
“And when I come in from work, I always wash my hands.”
His hands were large and callused. He told me once to notice the hands of people in the parish as they came for Communion. Many of the old-timers in the parish had the hands of manual workers. Many of the refugees worked doing piece work on sewing machines. He said that Jesus, a carpenter, would have had rough hands.
“I scrub them carefully.”
Pause. He held up his hand and showed his fingernails.
“But you know there is always a bit of grit you can’t get out by yourself.”
Long pause.
“We have the sacrament of reconciliation here on Wednesday night.”
End of sermon. Point made.
Apart from his boilermaker’s suit, Ferruccio exercised his priesthood in a cook’s apron. He loved his family and felt their pain deeply when something caused them suffering. He relaxed in the kitchen. When the community gathered, he put all the food at one end of the table and began grace. He always started in the same way.
“Now, what has the Lord provided for us today?
“I can see some potatoes and carrots and gravy.
“And the girello.”
He loved girello. And wine from Friuli. Also quail.
And so we began to eat. A wide range of people were welcome at that table. He was kind to my family, especially my mother, who loved him. They are immensely happy memories for me. Ferruccio may have had rough hands, but he was tender inside. Some people missed this. You only had to see him cry, which he did with his whole being. I was enriched by his friendship and give thanks to God for it.
Banner photo of Fr Ferruccio Romanin SJ, courtesy of the Australian Jesuit Province office archives.
To enquire about becoming a Jesuit in Australia, contact vocations@sjasl.org.au and for more info, visit our Vocations page.